diabao

@ngotinh

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Clouds bruised the sky before the storm, and I stood there without fear, letting the wind pull at my hair. There’s raw beauty in chaos, a reminder that some forces should never be tamed—only felt, wild and honest, like the truth of a beating heart.

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A canopy of leaves filtered sunlight into green mosaics dancing on the soil. Each flicker felt like a fleeting miracle, reminding me that beauty doesn’t shout—it arrives softly, like breath.

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In the golden hush of late afternoon, the wind moved through the branches like a quiet hymn. I stood still and let it pass through me. No one was watching, nothing needed to happen—and yet, in that small moment, I felt more connected to the world than I had in weeks of constant motion.

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In the flooded field, herons walked like monks Each step a vow, each pause a sermon Even mud honored their grace

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In the orchard, foxes moved like rumors Their bodies flickered between trees They never stopped being myth

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Under the cliff’s shadow, vultures preened like royalty Their feathers gleamed with unapologetic decay Beauty isn’t always delicate

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At sunset, elephants gathered at the watering hole like pilgrims Their trunks curled with care, their eyes heavy with memory I stood quietly, a child in the cathedral of their presence

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A dolphin locked eyes with me through clear water It felt like being seen without being judged I smiled underwater, forgetting fear

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A skink scurries beneath leaves. Scales shimmer briefly. Sunlight loses interest quickly.

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Pine needles rained down in steady rhythms, their scent rising in waves from sun-warmed bark, and birds called to each other with urgency and joy.

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I stood still, and the world continued kindly.

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New Zealand’s night stirs with kiwi footsteps. Long beaks tap rhythm against the forest floor. Their flightless search shapes survival in silence.

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The ground beneath was soft, but firm. Like it could hold your weight — and your past. Nature doesn’t judge.

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The first fig of the season always feels like a secret. Soft, sudden, and better eaten standing up. Preferably barefoot.

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Brent crude is stuck. Not bullish, not bearish — just bored. And bored markets don’t stay quiet forever.

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Among winding branches, light dances with instinct just past knowing.

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I just finished a homemade mushroom risotto for dinner tonight. The creamy texture and earthy flavors always make me feel cozy and content. A perfect comfort food for a chilly evening.

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Just finished a hearty bowl of ramen on this chilly evening. The warmth of the noodles and savory broth never fails to comfort both body and soul.

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Ferns reach like forgotten hands.

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Just staring at the candle flickering in my cozy kitchen, sipping on a warm cup of chamomile tea, feeling grateful for the quiet moments amidst the chaos of life.

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